Back to Back Dead
by angelxx22xx
Summary: Follow this weird bunch of demigods as they deal with their past, their present, the possible future and hormones. Strung together by friendship and many misadventures, it is going to be one hell of a ride. "So wait- this is my story? Then why do I feel like I'm the only one nothing happens to?" OC x Nico? Possibly.


**Yo guys what's up? /gets shot**

**OKAY OKAY! I know, I was lost for nearly...a year now, but I have my reasons...just let me look for them. Alright, so while I rack my brain, I would just like to apologize, (SORRY!) and say that I'm back! Hopefully! Okay, just a few notes:**

**1. I'm going to be back, not frequent.**

**2. This is going to be a short, multi chapter story, anything longer would not be continued since I'm that lazy, so sorry if this will end soon!**

**3. And lastly, I'm not reliable for my actions and it is YOUR (yes, you dearest reader) responsibility for my updating.**

**How? By reviews, pms or generally contacting me would be nice.**

**Okay, sit back ,relax, ENJOY!**

**DISCLAIMER: No, you're looking at a FAN fiction author, ask again later.**

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**CHARLIE**

Charlie was distraught.

Well, more agitated and frustrated than when half-blood dreams come. And honestly, she didn't even know why she was making a huge deal out of. The fact that the great Charlie Stone, who had already defeated a lot of monsters any other mortals would faint by the mere image of them, was distressed over a little subject bothered her more and more As time ticked and flew.

A boy was in her mind that night.

Could it be morning, she wouldn't have to endure the fatigue in her limbs. Or she might not even suffer Annabeth mumbling mindlessly in her sleep or Malcom's hearty snore. Could it be someone like her, unpopular, weird and terribly annoying, she could've told him a long time ago that she loved him. Hell, with her confidence she would've hugged him and never have let go.

_And it is already 2 am. _Charlie noted by her bedside clock. And tomorrow they needed to be on their feet bright and early. Well, if you wanted to be first to the bathrooms, you should know when to prioritize. Plus with extra luck, Samantha would be hogging the urinals to keep on her 'natural' beauty look she tries to aim for. Somehow.

But good luck rarely comes to small cases like her. And when you're a half blood, it rarely comes along.

Especially when you've gotten yourself head over heels in love with resident heart throb Nico di Angelo.

_Baby, somebody call Olympus cause he is missing a di Angel-o._

"Dammit, stop this, stop it!" She hisses, cursing herself repeatedly and cursing herself again for cursing. "Aphrodite just kill me now."

_Please_. She added in her head, partially scared that she might have gotten her wish and partially pissed off that she would rather be dead.

Ah yes. Camp's resident badass, all around mystery and Mr. hero of Olympus. There's just something, maybe it's the aura around him that draws girls to him like moths to a flame. If you consider death as a a savvysavvy

_Why do I have to fall for him?_

Not technically fall-fall, like the act of falling, but the fall in which-

Charlie groans again to her pillow.

She was smitten. Every time she looked his way, she just gets lost in his own graceful movements. And later on when she catches herself daydreaming, she slaps herself mentally for staring.

Not entirely staring.

It was more of eyeing him hopefully while wishing he doesn't notice her obsession.

In truth, Charlie didn't want to be one of _those_ girls who fall at where his feet are. Her even laying her eyes on him was a mistake, maybe an infatuation placed upon Aphrodite for painting her cabin weeks ago. Oh how wonderful it would be just a love potion to wear off and she could go back to killing him through Swordsmanship Lessons on Mondays.

But a part of her blames her imagination.

You know how girls always wants that one guy who turns out to be a complete gentleman just for her? She doesn't want him to look at her like she's perfect- that would be a disturbing thought. She just wants to be around him. To just live in the moment.

Make any sense?

No?

That's the life of Charlie Stone in a nutshell.

Not that she tries to make her presence known. It was him who constantly reminds her.

There had been a time during archery that she convinced herself that there might be a slight chance of him liking her back. He stood besides her at target practice, her left hand being her best made it possible for her to look at him through peripherals. He gave a polite smile once and it made her ears red. Every little thing he did always made her suspicions grow farther. It was a terrible hour for her, wondering if what she did would drive him away. Feeling conscious of herself, she even removed the pony tail she had, thinking he liked it better when girls wear their hair down.

A day after, she realized he still had no clue of her. It was all in her imagination. Again.

Because no matter what she does, it all sums up into one conclusion. No matter how she wishes, Nico di Angelo would never look at her twice.

**ZIN**

Long after the snores took over cabin 11, Zin was still awake, staring blankly space the wall opposite her bunk and trying hard not to think about anything much. Bags under her eyes tell of sleepless nights, the fatigue in her body wanted- _begged_- her to sleep but every other thing says otherwise. Part of her mind wondered if she stared for too long in the blackness something in there would_ eventually stare_ back.

Zin tried to sleep.

But the moment her eyes closes her eyes images flash under the lids and all too vividly war came, making her squirm until she is forced to welcome the suffocating darkness around.

_This is going to be a long night. _

"I'm fine." She tells herself although there is a hint of distrust and fear in her voice that she didn't even consider the thought.

How could she, knowing what has happened? She was a soldier. _There are no uninjured soldiers_. She didn't even finish enjoying her childhood when the Civil War started. She remembered step-father and both her brothers taken during mid noon for no reason till word came of armies, and battles and monsters coming. She remembered being there, near boot camps, hearing them endure the short amount of training till they were shipped off somewhere to fight the rich man's war. She remembered her mother, weeping even before anyone in her family even faced a bullet, waiting, wondering if they should even prepare dinners for five instead of two.

She remembered of not being fine with it.

Zin tried not to let it come back, the pain, the memories, the ruthless nights and death. Her heart beats, and she tried to find shelter in squeezing her mind shut to finding no salvation anywhere.

They ruined her. Her name, Zinnia, as most girls of that time were named after flowers, was changed easily as there was nothing sentimental of being something so easily squished. She cut off her hair, the hair she remembers tying ribbons on to make her at least look decent. She practiced her slouch, or just the way the boys do while passing by their orchard. To talk the talk, to walk the walk, that was one thing. Becoming one was another. But to do what's right, she knew she had to give up the very foundations she was taught on how to properly become a lady And become nothing more but a scrawny boy no one could care less.

And she got her wish too.

Being 14, she lied about her life as most women who stood up to what they believed in. Lying about her gender, it was a challenge, but she carried it. She became Zack, the scrawny kid who you couldn't get away with pranks, or laughs.

"I'm okay." She hissed through gritted teeth albeit her voice changed not except it were more angry, tucked away in a bottle of rage.

She didn't understand back then what it was like. Sure, she didn't want to endure the mourning of the women left behind, but she was selfish. She wanted to not hurt. But that's where she is, after all the things she's done to avoid it, she's hurting. Like the woman lost in the orchard with all of her family gone to war.

The Confederates didn't win the war. And although it was where she stood by, it wasn't their ideology she fought for. It was her love for her family that made her pull her mindless stunt. Half dead somewhere in the desert, she crawled to no where, waiting to see which religion was right, would she open her eyes to the pearly gates of heaven or was the next thing she would see is the face of the midwife who brought her from the womb. She was ready for death.

But death wasn't ready for her.

And if it weren't for it she wouldn't be here right now. Breathing, awake. Hurting.

"I'm not fine." She finally whispers, holding it back no more, the tears finally flow out of her eyes. Zinnia Melion may try to act like one, but deep inside she isn't as man as she thought.

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**So it's a preview. Sue me. -winces- So what do you think? Worth a shot? No? BTW, TLO never happened, so this is partly AU.**

**Okay, I'll leave it with you then. Cheers! **


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